Coming to Terms
by Lyo
Summary: Complete. Pietro has a problem...Warning: Slash themes.
1. Easy to Hide on the Phone

What can I say? This kinda hit me one day when I was typing something, back when chapters of mine were like two pages long. I SUCK at writing slash but, hey, I like to wallow in my shame. Here's the first part, since been editted to go after Cauldron. Whatcha ya'll think?

Coming To Terms  
By Lyo  
Legals: Same. Characters are not mine, have never been mine, and blah.  
WARNING: deals wirh SLASH (guy/guy) situations; mentions Lance/Rogue, but that's not really the central theme of the story.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Lance threw the multi-colored shirt down on the floor when he came in from work. Fred and Todd were home as usual, playing the old Nintendo that the latter had found in the basement a few days ago. It worked all right, and the three games that came with it were good ones. It was cheaper than buying a new Playstation after the accident involving Pietro, Todd, and coke that had fallen to the last one. 

Money was exactly tight. Between his degrading job and Fred's mysterious one, they paid the bills and kept food on the table. Wasn't the greatest food, but it was good still. They could have used the money in Mystique's account, but since Tolensky got them locked out, they'd been on their own. And things were pretty good. They just couldn't afford certain luxuries, like getting his headlight fixed after Daniels threw a bone spike into one of them. 

The misadventures of Mario and Luigi were pretty soothing as he stretched out on the floor, watching the little mushroom things bob up and down. The game itself wasn't interesting. He'd beaten it when he was eleven or twelve and never looked back. But it made the house peaceful for hours at a time, although that music was beginning to grate him. It was better than the music on every day at his workplace, and it was MUCH better than the screaming wail of "I NEED MORE TOKENS". He sighed. The joys of working for Chuck E Cheese's. 

"Did you get any applications today, Todd?" 

"No. Nobody's interested in me, yo. I told you that I couldn't get no work for awhile." 

Lance nodded, knowing that that was going to happen no matter what he tried. Todd was too young, and Pietro was at the community center. He got paid a little here and there for odd favors, but not enough to consider it a real job. Most of Pietro's money went to the emergency money that was on top of the fridge in an old spaghetti sauce jar. 

"How many days are you working next week, Fred?" 

"Three." He shifted his bulk around. "And maybe Saturday if they need me." 

Lance nodded. That meant he had to work five again. Fun. At least tonight he'd been working a birthday party. That always gave a nice tip. "Gotcha. Todd, I need you and Pietro to buy groceries this week." 

"When?" 

"How much food have we got left?" 

The game was paused again, Todd grumbling about Lance being a dictator, and the boy leapt off his spot on the arm of the couch. "Drop me there on your way to work tommorrow, yo." 

"You guys eat already?" 

"Yeah." Lance nodded, dragging himself back up off of the floor and then up the stairs, his feet like lead. His bed felt warm and comfortable as he crashed onto it, not bothering to take off his work pants. The job situation was looking good. His manager seemed too like him, despite all else, and that could lead to a promotion. 

A small part of him wished that Pietro had bit the bullet with him and Freddy, and just gone to a normal job. The center paid almost nothing, and he didn't get tips or anything like that...but Lance really couldn't get mad at him. He wanted to, don't get him wrong, but that place meant something to the white haired boy. 

He was more worried now that he thought about it. Pietro was...a pretty looking boy with his icy eyes and delicate, almost effeminate, features. He looked fragile more than anything, and an easy target. Of course, Pietro would never let himself be hurt by any one in that neighborhood...but still Lance worried. 

The boy's eyes shot open, recounting his previous thoughts and ground his teeth together. He had to stop thinking about Pietro. The boy was fine. He was always fine. Lance didn't need to worry about him. Had to think about something else. 

He switched his mind to thinking about the girls at school. Jean Grey, annoying and bland as she was, had been wearing a new shirt today that left very little to the imagination. It had gotten the desired affect, apparently, having Summers and Matthews following her around all day. Kitty looked the same as usual. He still thought she was kind of hot, but her voice grated his nerves. Then there was Rogue. 

Lance sighed, looking over at a picture of them at McDonald's. They'd been dating now for a week or so. It wasn't anything remarkable. She couldn't really touch him, and he really didn't think much about touching her. It didn't feel right. It was more like an excuse for them to get out and away from everything. He sighed, slowing closing his eyes when the phone rang. 

He waited a moment, waiting for Todd or Fred to pick up. They didn't, too wrapped up in their game to care about the phone, and the answering machine wasn't hooked up. Again. "Hello?" He grabbed the extension by his bed, sitting up. 

"Hey, Lance?" Pietro. He was going to choke him. Sure it was Friday, but it was also one in the morning and he'd been working since three with screaming children while confined in the shell of skanky fake mouse fur. Why wasn't that community center closed anyway? 

"Let me guess? You need a ride." 

"Actually...no. I was just calling to tell you that I'm going over Blue's for the night. I know how you worry." There was a hint of nervousness in the younger mutant's voice, something Lance caught right away. 

"Blue?" he sat up, "Is that your new girlfriend or something?" 

"Uh...no, well, not really. It's not like that or anything. We were just out late and, well, Blue lives across town,andit'stoolatefrome togetalifthomewiththem.And you worked,soI figured--" 

"Okay, okay. You can stay." Lance rubbed his eyes. "Are you coming home or do you have work again?" 

"It's Youth Night at the center. I'm going to that. I go to every Youth Night." He went from nervous to defensive in a moment, as if Lance intended to tell him no. 

He shook his head, "Call me when you're coming home. I'll pick you up or she can drive you home or whatever." 

Pietro let out a breath, "Thanks." Then he hung up and Lance yawned again, embracing his pillow as sleep over took him.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He hung up the phone, smiling a little to himself. That had been relatively easy. Actually, that had been a cakewalk. Lance was clueless to what was really going on. Cute, but insanely clueless. He'd been working at the GLCC for the past few weeks, though he'd been attending a little more than he let on. That had been one of the first things he did when he came to Bayville was go there. 

Lance never knew about the GLCC. He thought he was working at the Jewish Community Center, placed conviently across the street. After work, he'd just call the older mutant and take a stroll across the street and wait on the steps. Alvers would never be the wiser. 

Not that he wasn't careful. He'd purposefully _not_ put the phone number anywhere around the house. All he needed as Fred or Todd to have to call him while Lance was at work. They didn't use intials when they answered the phone. They used the full, blantantly true name that he couldn't even bring himself to use _quite_ yet. 

The possible scenarios for him telling the other guys about the center he really worked at scared him. He couldn't go anywhere else. His foster parents kicked him out when he'd gotten caught ripping off the lockers. And the X-men scared the hell out of him. Especially Daniels. He hated admitting that, but it was true. 

Daniels' friendship had been the start of the lies when Pietro came to terms with the truth internally. He'd stopped off at a center in New York City, talking to a conselour and then heading home when Evan had seen him coming out of the building. That had been the first time he'd been scared of what he was, when he saw the fear in his friend's eyes. 

_"You were in there? Why? I mean....you're not, are you?" Evan took three steps back, his eyes growing ever wider. _

Pietro shrugged, "Nah. Just looking around a little. Guess I was curious to see if the walls were pink...But it wouldn't be that big a deal if I was. I'm still gonna kick your ass tommorrow at the tourdament." 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WOULDN'T BE THAT BIG A DEAL!?" Evan practically screeched it, his eyes looking ready to pop out of his head, mouth wide open. Looking back, he resembled some kind of a fish. "That's sick! People in there are...perverted. They like...Aw, that's just gross. You couldn't be on the team if you were. That's like letting a girl into the locker room. C'mon, Pietro, don't be gross." 

He forced himself to laugh, sure his face was scarlet red and he was sweating. He wanted to get away from Evan. Had to run. Had to get out of there. "Yeah, guess you're right." 

Evan smirked, "Sure. Besides, a great basketball player like you couldn't be like that. Only wimpy assed little nerds are like that. Not jocks like us." 

That had been the start. He hated Evan from that day on. He had to prove himself every time they were on the court. He had to be awesome. If Daniels came out shining, it was an insult. Of course, then Daniels had been what? Ten or eleven? He thought using words like "perverted" and "ass" made him sound cool, like the high school players. Pietro frowned a little, forcing his one time friend out of his head. He was here to have fun with Blue and listen to her gush about Leigh. Not think about his lies to Evan or Lance. 

They'd be happier never knowing the truth.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Ew....I hate it. R/R if you so wish. 


	2. Syringes are FUN!

Here's the next part, thanks mostly to Sammy, my personal coach. He gave me direction and some pointers for the slashy sections. Love ya doll. Hope this part is better than the last. I have a friend to make proud now. ^_~ I changed the last two paragraphs of part one, so ya might wanna go over them again. 

Part Two  
Legals: Same  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"GET UP!!" He jerked in his sleep, feeling the girl throw her wieght against him, and then the descent onto the floor. He sat up slowly, blinking quite a few times before getting off of the floor. 

"Blue? Why are you in my house?" He couldn't quite understand that. And why had she knocked him out of bed? Why had Lance let her in to begin with. He was too overprotective to let some strange girl three years older than Pietro with multi-shaded hair past the living room, let alone into the bedroom. 

She shot him a withering look, "This is my house. You spent the night, remember? 

He tried to remember the night before, but it was hard. Very, very hard. He remembered the center...and then...and then.... "Oh...yeah. What time is it?" 

"Almost four-thirty. Liegh called. She's picking us up about a quarter after. Can you get a ride home tonight? We're going out to a movie afterwards, and then maybe to a bar." She was babbling, pulling on clothes as she went. 

The boy blinked again, nodding, "Sure. Lance can come get me, or I'll walk home....So, when's she coming to get us?" 

"5:15..." Blue put her hands on her hips, "How much did you do after I went upstairs to sleep." 

"Two...maybe four. I don't remember. It was late." Pietro grabbed the clothes she'd set out for him, meaning to make a dash to her shower when he felt her grip his arm. 

"Pietro, four? That could kill you if you're not careful. Is that what you want?" She shook her head, eyes centered on his face. "One is bad enough. I'm not going to give you the routine, but you really need help." 

He snorted, "I'm _fine_. I get over that kind of stuff quicker than you think." 

She looked at him for a moment, releasing his arm, "Just be careful, all right?" 

Pietro nodded, zipping into the bathroom and turning on the water full blast. Be careful. Who did she think she was? He was Quicksilver. Things passed through his system quicker than she could take them in, and yet she worried. And who was she? She'd been doing the same thing he'd been doing before she went to bed. Sure, she only did one. And her dose was a hell of a lot smaller than what he used...still... 

He stepped into the water, letting it drain all of the dirt away. Blue was a sweet kid. She knew he had problems, and she actually went out and bought the stuff for him. Bought it for him with the money she had to spare. Must be nice... He shook his head before beginning to wash the slick white locks. 

She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart, though. She did it because she was worried over him. He'd told her everything once. The truth about his living situation. His roommates having no clue about the truth, and his utter desire to keep it like that. And then came him talking about money and his problem. 

Pietro frowned a little before turning the water off. Blue needed to stop babying him. If he wanted to keep it up with the stuff, he was going to have to take it into his own hands. Besides, his monthly ration from her wasn't enough anymore. He needed more...and he would get it, no matter what. Even if it meant the streets. 

He dressed in a flash before pulling out the little bag, counting the cute little vials in there. This was enough for two weeks, maybe less. She was telling him to hurry up, that Liegh was coming earlier than expected. Probably couldn't wait to get him there so those two could go off and fuck. 

The boy grabbed a syringe, filling it with liquid and jabbed into his skin, feeling the all too familar rush of warmth through his body. He turned the water on in the sink. He felt sleepy again, and the sink actually looked comfortable, but if he fell asleep again...He'd never hear the end of it. 

"Pietro, come on!!" He grabbed his back pack, shoving the stuff in it as he stood. 

"Be there in a second."   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Lance sighed as he honked the horn, seeing Rogue hurry out the door. She looked same as usual. Green sheer shirt, tank top, black skirt, and the boots. Gloves too. She looked all right, he guessed, with a shrug as she slid into the car next to him, "Thanks. Scott refuses to take me down here." 

"Now where are we going again?" He pulled away from the driveway, casting her a look. Saturday was errand day. He took her places that no X-freak would look at; she sat and listened to him bitch about his job and let him drag her to his stores. It was a good relationship...if you could call it that. Since worked picked up, Saturday was the only day they had together. 

"Other Worlds, Eye of Horus, Blood Pick, and Dollar Discount...and the Gap. Kitty's birthday." 

He nodded, "I have to get a new pair of jeans and I need new work shoes." 

"Sounds like a great day, eh?" She grinned at him, shaking her head, "Anythin' else you want to do today?" 

"Nope." He turned his eyes back on the road, trying to block out the strange, uncomfortable feeling that had been rising in him since he'd left the house. These were the days he loved but dreaded. Driving around town with Rogue had been fine when they were just friends who never saw each other anymore. Since they'd decided to be "going out", he'd been agitated. If they were going out, why weren't things changing...Surem she wasn't able to touch him. They could still be a little more...couple like. He needed them to be a little more couple-like. People who are going out together don't go shopping on Saturday's. They spend the whole day doing goofy shit, like staring deeply into the other's eyes and making all those disgusting nicknames up for each other. "You wanna go see a movie after this?" 

"Sure." She turned away from the window, "Anythin' in particular ya wanna see, or don't it matter." 

"You pick. It doesn't matter to me." He went back to looking at the road. Ha! He was going to make this a relationship if it killed him. How hard could it really be? 

"Ah heard that 'A Knight's Tale' was pretty good from Kitty, but ya probably don't want to see that..." 

He ground his teeth. Oh, goody, just what he wanted to do. Sit through two hours of some pansy move that _Kitty_ liked. Yay. Wonderful. "No, that's fine. I get to pick the movie out next time though, okay?" 

"Sure..." She cast him an odd look before resuming to stare out the passenger side window. He felt like gloating. He and Rogue were doing couple things like normal teens that were dating. Relief washed through him, casting a look at her from his position at the wheel. He looked back at the road, seeing nothing but dismal rain. 

His mind was redrawing Rogue, trying to change her forlorn figure into something of true beauty, true hotness that he could concentrate on while on this stupid shopping trip. Pale skin could stay. That was nice...only he wanted to be able to touch it, taste it. The eyes needed something...something a little colder, more distant. The greenish grey was very, very pretty, but it wasn't what he really liked. All his old girlfriend had generally one thing in common. Ice blue or stormy grey eyes, something that was commanding of attention, that craved it. Her gloves, of course, had to go, leaving her with long, delicate fingers, thumbs patting off of one another as time passed. Her frame had to be stretched a little, made leaner. She wasn't fat, of course, just that she had a little extra wieght in places that he didn't-- 

Lance's mind finally caught up with itself, haulting the make-over right then, and he pulled the car off of the road, shaking himself throughly. That had not just happened. Rogue was hot. He liked bodies like Rogue's. He liked the added wieght on a girl's body. The added weight was beautiful. He did not like thinner frames or ice blue eyes. He didn't like any of that. He like Rogue. His _girlfriend_. 

"Ya all right there, Lance? Ya look like ya just seen yer ghost or somethin'." 

He stopped, "Nah...Thought I saw a...squirrel. On the road...I mean, I didn't want to hurt it or anything..." Real, real slick Alvers. She'd never guess a thing. 

"Whatever ya say, Lance."   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He didn't reall remember getting there. They'd been in the car, and then they'd dropped him off in the rain. Then they left...and he'd meant to walk into the doors, but instead he went onto the basketball court. The taste in his mouth told him that he'd thrown up when he was there. His clothes were soaked, cold. He wanted to go to sleep...sleep was good... 

Somehow he was in here, a blanket tossed around his thin shoulders as a kind gaze met his own. He touched the pocket in his jacket, feeling the cottony bundle of his payment. They hadn't taken that away from him. Not yet. Good. "Hello, Pietro. My name is Ruth Scalise. Some of the girls found you out on the courts in the rain...Mind telling me how you go there?" 

He blinked, trying to gain control of his senses long enough to form a sentence, "Who are you?" 

"I'm one of the counslor's with the center. The others are busy with support groups out in the gym. I want to ask you a few questions about why you were outside." She was staring at him, her dark face kind and inviting. 

He shook his head, "No." 

"You know I can't tell anyone about the things that you tell me. Pietro, it's very obivous to me that you're not well. I know the signs. I've been dealing with teenage boys in your situation for quite sometime. Please, just a few questions and then you can leave." He felt her touch one of his shaking hands. Warmth finally. He let out a shuddering breath. Warmth was good. 

"Shoot." She didn't take her hand away, and he clung to it, holding it between both of his own 

"Do your gaurdians know about your--?" 

"Yes." Gaurdians? What gaurdians? The blue lady and the man that like to bend forks with his eyebrow, those were his gaurdians. He was lucky that they knew which one he was. 

"Do your brothers and sisters know about it?" 

Brothers? Like real brothers or Todd and Lance and Blob? He didn't have any sister. Nope, well, execpt for the little girl at the burning house but she was dead now. Very very dead. "She's dead." 

"I'm sorry to hear that." Her hand drew away staring him straight into his painful eyes, "Do your friends know?" 

He stared at her right back, "Yes. I told them all." Lying was part of being a mutant. Pathetic that they expected the truth from him...though not as pathetic as him wanting to tell it. If he told them that though, who knows what else they might want to know? Did they know he was a mutant? He felt his body getting agitated, the drug beginning to leave his system. Ah, the joys of Quicksilver. 

"If everyone knows about you, why are you on drugs, Pietro? It's not healthy, and this isn't the first time you've shown up like this. We don't want to see you get hurt. Drugs are dangerous, and they kill so many young people every year. Do you want to be another statistic in the book?" She was giving him that load of shit he'd heard once in a text book. "Pietro, Pietro...PIETRO, are you listening to me?" 

"Sure. You want me to stop." He stared at her. "Maybe I don't want to stop. Can't make me." 

She sighed, rubbing her forehead, "You're right. I can't...but I can make you come to counselling once every week. And I can make you go home." 

The boy stood, "Are we done?" 

"Yes, we're done. I'll see you on Wednesday, 3:30. Understood?" 

"If I don't show up?" He raised a brow, challenging her. His head was pounding, but he had to get out of here before stopping that again. 

Her smile was tight and kind of creepy when she looked at him, "I'll call your house and alert your gaurdian to your activities." 

The boy bolted out of there, shaking a little. He couldn't go and sit in there with that lady. How was he going to get to the center on Wednesday? Fred worked Wednesday. Lance did too. Todd usually went out for an hour or so... But Lance would have to drop him here on the way to work...Or, at least at the Jewish Community Center. 

He sank down onto the steps, sighing a little. He wouldn't get home until five then. That was going to be the hard part. Pietro knew he had a problem. He wasn't going to deny that. He'd had this problem since he'd lived in the city, and when he moved here, it just got worse. He could _not_ go and tell Lance about the incoming call. 

Of course, Lance would understand. The older boy had his own problems. But he would probably want to know _why_ Pietro had started. That was the only hang up. Lance didn't understand. No one did. He felt his eyes welling up with frustration, hands gripping at his stark-white locks before he calmed himself. 

"Pietro..." A familiar voice called him from the base of the stairs. He froze, looking up for a moment. A number of thoughts ran through his head. Why was he here? Did he know what this place was? Why the hell was he standing there, waiting for a reply. He stood shakily, jumping off of the stairs and starting to run. 

_Idiotidiotidiotidiot....Now he **knows** it was you..._ Better to run than have to face the questions. He didn't stop until he'd made it home and into the safety of his room, reaching into his bag for another vial and his syringe. Time to forget.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Ew....Weirdness. Please R/R. 


	3. Mutants Closing In

More of the same. ^_^ Hope ya enjoy. R/R as always, please! 

Part Three  
Legals: Same   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Todd watched Lance play the imaginary drums off of the coffee can as the rich brown liquid began filling up the pot, sending a gagging aroma around the kitchen. Coffee was a luxury reserved for school days only, or so said Lance. Now the older mutant was preparing it slowly. "How late were you and Rogue out?" 

Lance shrugged, "Not late. Not really, I mean...It was just...We went and saw a movie. And then we got lost on the way back to her place." 

"How could you miss that house? Did the Storm lady have the fog in or something?" 

He shook his head, grabbing the cream and the sugar, "We were talking about...things." 

"What kind of things?" 

Another shake of the head, "It was just couple stuff..." 

"About what?" 

"Go away, Todd." He glared at the younger boy until he got the hint, slinking out of the kitchen. Lance thumped his mug of coffee onto the table, then slid into a chair. He'd apologize to Todd later. Right now he just wanted to go to sleep. He'd been up too late last night contemplating the conversation he'd shared with Rogue in the car...what she meant... 

_"Ya know, if ya try talkin' to him about it, maybe he'll understand..." He didn't think he heard her right. Understand what? _

"What do you mean? Who should I talk to...about what?" 

She frowned, "Lance, ah saw inside that head a yers. Ah know about Pietro..." 

He looked at her, a cold chill coursing down his spine. She had no idea what she was talking about. Pietro? What could she possibly get from his mind about Pietro, other than how fucking annoying he was....or he used to be. The white haired boy had been spending more time locked up in his room than Lance cared to think about, "Pietro? Is something wrong with him?" 

The girl sighed, shaking her head, "He might understand how ya feel about him if ya would just try and talk to--" 

"How I feel about Pietro? Rogue, what kind of sick joke is that? Pietro is my friend. I don't think of him as anything more than a potentionally annoying little brother who runs around too fast and plays way too many practical jokes! There is nothing there besides that. If there was, would I be going out with you? No. I wouldn't. But here I am. With you, my date. My girlfriend. Stop trying to overanalyze what's in my head." He gripped the steering wheel tightly, staring straight ahead at the road. 

Her head hung a little, "Ah still think ya should try an' talk to Pietro... There are things in his head, that I saw after...He needs someone to talk to him." 

"Oh? What about?" He glanced at her, "He having problems with Magneto leaving or something?" 

Rogue shook her head, "Ah thought ya might understand...but since yer so sure that ya just have 'brotherly' feelings for him, ah guess ah was wrong." 

"Damn right you were." 

Then it had been easy to write off, but the conversation had still thrown him off and they'd gotten lost in the middle of nowhere. Summers had been at the door when he dropped her off with the Logan guy, both wearing grim and angry faces. He could only imagine what they were thinking. Of course, they must be real perverts if they thought anything had actually happened. Yes. They'd been making out in his back seat. He looked a little too alive for all that skin-to-skin contact with Rogue. 

He sipped his coffee a little, trying to sort out what Rogue was hinting at the night before. Was Pietro, dare he say it, gay? Didn't seem likely. The white haired kid was always checking girls out whenever they scraped together enough to go to to McDonald's or something. He was the one who made lewd comments to the girls at school about their skirts. 

Then again, he could just be good at hiding it. Some of them were good at that. He remembered a guy who taught at his old school came out right after he retired. The guy was nearing sixty, and no body knew that he wasn't playing for the right team, or how the principal had put it. He shook his head. No. Pietro wasn't gay. That was insane. 

He stopped himself...Wait, how had he gotten on that line of thought...Oh, fuck. _He_ sure as hell wasn't gay. So he thought Pietro had a cute ass, and he was kind of sexy in his own odd Pietro way. And he had great eyes. That didn't make him... He just hadn't been drinking enough coffee. Coffee deprivation can do that to people...   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Hey, Maximoff, phone's for you!" One of the guys was pounding on his door just as he was coming out of his stupor. Figures. They always had a habit of trying to talk to him between injections. Couldn't they just leave him alone? 

He stuck his hand out the door, grabbing the cordless phone off of Todd and slamming himself back into the room, "Hello?" 

"Hey, it's me." He closed his dazed blue eyes, remembering the night before with the stairs and the rain. "I wanted to talk to you. I saw you there, Pietro. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Really..." 

"Shove it, Summers..." The boy snarled, shaking. He'd worked a little too hard at hiding things from Lance and the others for this little prep-tight ass to come in and fuck his life over. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?" 

There was a moment of silence, "Pietro, it's cool. I think it's really awesome that you're willing to be seen there. I mean, not many people could sit out on those stairs." 

"Look, it's not what you think. I mean, Summers... You didn't tell anyone? Did you. Answer me, asshole." His mind was trying to get back to normal speed, going over all the possibilties that would happen if he did blab something to one of the other X-freaks...Maybe to Evan. Then there was the psycho-bland-bitch Jean...if she saw it in his mind. 

Scott sighed, "No. I didn't. I wasn't sure if that was something that you wanted other people to know, or..." 

"Look, whatyousawthere..." He cleared his throat. If he talked fast, Scott wouldn't understand him, and then he would tell other people about that whole incident to get some help. "What you saw there...I was waiting for my friend, Blue, to drive me home. She goes to Youth Night counselling there...Her and her girlfriend, Liegh, they're both in this group thing. I hang out there with them sometimes, but on Saturday's, the people who work there throw every straight person out and make them wait." 

Scott didn't say anything for a long minute, "Then why did you run away?" 

Shit. Why couldn't he have been as stupid and easy to convince as Daniels? Damn him for having a brain, "Because...Because I didn't want anyone thinking that I'm--" 

"Gay? Pietro, there's no shame in admitting it. I know that it has to be tough for you, stuck in that house with Lance and the others, who would probably kill you if they knew the truth. I know where you're coming from. I just went through this with Paul, my friend from school. That's why I was there...He's pretty messed up..." Scott's voice got quiet for a minute. 

"They're good people, Summers. They'll help him out of whatever trouble he's in..." Pietro lowered his eyes for a minute, staring at his pillow, then pulled his sleeve back to stare at the yellowish bruises on his skin, tiny little enflamed patches of skin where the needle had jabbed into his body. They were good people...They could help humans. Paul was lucky. 

"If he needs someone to talk to, will yo--" 

"Summers, look, I can help him at the center, get him to the right counsellors, make sure things are cool, but I'm not one of them." 

Scott laughed hollowly, "Yeah, I guess. You get too much pleasure out of flipping girls skirts." His voice changed. Some one must have come in, wondering who Scott was talking to. "Look, I gotta go...Talk to you later, all right?" 

"Don't call me again. I don't need Lance thinking I'm friendly towards you." Lance's opinion shouldn't matter. It couldn't matter. Lance was just his annoying, self-appointed older brother. 

There was a laugh, "Couldn't have that, could we?" There was a tone in his voice that Pietro didn't like as he whispered 'bye' and hung up the phone. 

The white haired boy frowned, pulling his pillow case over his lap and unzipping it, taking a plastic bag out and staring at the contents again. Why couldn't he do anything else but turn to this when things went wrong?   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Pietro...Get down here! We're going out for pizza." Lance stood at the foot of the stairs. 

Fred shifted from foot to foot, "Maybe he's not hungry. Or maybe he's asleep again. We should leave him alone." 

The dark haired boy shook his head, "No. He _has_ to come." Something was still bothering him about Pietro. A small, insignifigant thing that Rogue had hinted at. 

Todd cast him an odd look, wary, "Why, yo? We could just bring him home somethin' like usual. He won't be missin' it if he wants to stay up in his room all night."

Lance turned, putting on his best "wounded and overworked" expression, "No. I hardly see you anymore, and I want Pietro to come, to catch up on things. All right?" Gag. The other two boys didn't object to that, nodding. It was true that he worked too much, but it was cool when he got weekdays. Most people didn't come in Monday through Thursday, and on those days, he worked the game room...Gotta love the game room.

"Pietro!" Todd went half up the stairs, looking at the other two. "Why don't you go get the car started? He's probably listening to his walkman again. See you in a minute, yo." 

Lance nodded, "Let's go, Freddie. Hate to disapoint the little guy, eh?" 

Fred nodded a little, giving Lance a once over, "Somethin' botherin' you, Alvers?" 

He stopped, mind screeching to a halt, "Bothering...me?" Shit. Maybe things were more obvious than he'd thought. Maybe everyone knew about his problem--Wait, no. He was being paranoid. This was _Fred_. The large mutant wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. 

"It's cool, Fred. I'm just tired. Kids are bitches." He opened the front door. "I'll tell you all about it in the car."   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He knocked on Pietro's door again. There wasn't an answer still. He could hear the low pulse of the white haired mutant's music, but not Pietro. "Hey, Maximoff...You awake?" 

Still no answer. Really weird... Todd frowned for a minute, staring at the door in front of him. The door was open just a crack. Barely a line of light could make its way through there...He pressed against it, trying to see anything. He could make out Pietro sitting on the bed, his right arm extended in front of him... 

He jumped up, knocking on the door one last time before pushing it open. Todd looked at Pietro, watching as a needle slid into the older boy's skin, slicing a tiny hole into the bruised skin near the major viens. He watched, not saying anything as the syringe emptied into Pietro's bloodstream and the syringe was put back into a bag, and then into a pillow. 

The young mutant jumped back, shaking his head and knocking on the doorjam. He pretended not to be looking in the room, to have no idea what was going on in there. It took him a moment to find his voice, "Hey...Maximoff?" 

He looked over, staring at the door for a moment, "Yeah?" The boy came over to Todd, his normal stride slow, almost human, "What is it?" Todd stared at Pietro's face. Deep hollows had formed around his eyes and on his cheeks. Why hadn't anyone noticed the way his delicate bones stuck out all over his face, giving him the look of a living skeleton. 

"Lance wants you outside. We're goin' for pizza." He shifted a little, still staring at Pietro, the image of the needle in the boy's bony, bruised arm engrained in his memory. Blue eyes stared back at him. Freakish blue eyes...in the low light, his eyes were almost totally blue, pupils little dots on that sea. 

"I'm not hungry." Before Todd could say anything, the door slammed in his face.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Anyone still like this? ^_^ R/R


	4. Final Step to Hell

This chapter's very Pietro full...After Brightspots, I need to leave Lance alone for awhile. ^_^ And I personally don't like this one as much. There's some fluff...*gag* And a Lance/Rogue fake relationship moment. 

Part Four  
Legals: Same   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
They got home at about eleven, the house still dark. Pietro's light was on. Lance frowned, looking at Todd, "You said he was sick..." 

The younger boy nodded, "He is...Real sick." He disappeared into the house, as if trying to avoid answering any more questions. 

Fred shrugged, "Maybe it's the flu or somethin'. A couple of kids in school had it before..." 

Lance sighed, "Maybe...I'll try and talk to him in the morning, before school."   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Pietro watched them carefully from a slit in the blinds. Todd hadn't seen anything...If he had...If he had, he would have told Lance. And Lance wouldn't be standing there on the concrete, he'd be running upstairs and demanding what the hell was going on. He'd want to know what was going on... 

In all honesty, Pietro _wanted_ to tell Lance. He wanted to to hear the older boy tell him he was an idiot and that no pain in the world was worth it. But he just couldn't... If he did... That whole story. 

But Summers knew, or at least, he suspected as much that he knew. And Summers promised not to tell anyone. Not that old Baldie couldn't pick it out of the boy's mind with ease. Hell, he didn't care. The X-men could all know that Pietro Maximoff was a freak, a fairy, a fag. Pick one. He heard them all when he played basketball at the Center. People seemed to think it was funny, shouting the curses out until one of the newer ones ran into the Center, tears streaming down over their faces. He was lucky. That abuse didn't phase him. He was a mutant...Hatred was as natural as speed or breathing. 

If he told Lance or Todd or even Fred, would they react the same way Magneto had in that moment of stupidity, that single brash moment when he was so glad to have some one there, some one who had to understand... He remembered the digust burning in Magneto's blue eyes as he turned away, shaking his head. _Go, Pietro...Go to Bayville. Now._

He never did know if Magneto forgave him for being...different, wrong. He hoped that he had. He wished that he had... In all reality, he was just kidding himself. The mutant favored him as the leader, treated him like he was the leader. He ignored the fact that Lance had that post with little argument from anyone else. He didn't care about the others because they had no control. And no control made them weak, soft. His powers were, to coin a crappy phrase from Summers, at his mercy. Speed was fully a part of him....Magneto loved it. It only took a few years of training, and he was perfect when he was set back to the streets of New York for high school. 

"Couldn't even put me in the shitty machine..." He grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest. The pillow was on the floor, so close to him. All he had to do was reach in and grab a vial. No more pain...No more anything. 

He sighed, lying down on the floor. Maybe tonight he'd just live with the pain and the need of the drugs. He needed to clear his head, and this was the only way...   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Hey, you gonna get up?" Lance's voice roused him from the fitful sleep. The older boy was half into the room, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Pietro rise up from his spot on the floor, "What's wrong with your bed?" 

He shrugged, trying his best to look like he was okay, not in hell, "Just thought I'd like a change. Change is good, you know." 

The older boy nodded, watching him grab his clothes out of his dresser and throw the pillow back onto his bed along with the comforter he never bothered using, "Pietro, you sick?" 

Blue eyes widened, and he stumbled back a little, "Nope, never better. I'll be ready in ten..." 

"All right...We're leaving in about a half an hour?" Lance looked at him, cautious. "You're eating breakfast with us." It wasn't a question or a request, but a firm command. There was no backing down from the gentle voice the older boy used, and it angered Pietro immensely. He wasn't hungry, damnit. He just wasn't... 

"Sure....Whatever." Lance nodded, leaving as Pietro grabbed two vials, his last two, from the pillow. Where had it all gone? He looked around frantically, biting his lip. Where was it? 

He heard someone coming towards his room, and he forced himself calm. He'd been using far too much recently. It had all been used...Which left him with a grim reality as he walked down to the bathroom. He'd have to call the Center... There was a job for him that night... A job elsewhere. 

He shook a little as he slammed the door shut, dropping his clothes on the floor and opening the first vial. He didn't want the job... But he had to have it...   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Lance poked at his lunch with his fork, watching the other tables around him. There was a couple fighting at one table, a pair of jocks showing their bulging muscles at a next. Yes sir, some damn fine grade A entertainment. The only thing he didn't like about lunch, besides the food, was the X-men table. Every so often, one of them would look over and point, then laugh, and go back to their lives. Of course, he ignored them, but it still proceeded to bug Todd and Fred, and usually Pietro. 

Today, the entire table kept glancing at them, and only Fred noticed. Todd was too busy moving his lunch around on the tray and watching Pietro. Something had been bothering the frail boy since the night before, since he'd volunteered to go up and get Pietro out of his room. He'd been this same disarming sort of quiet at the pizza place, only talking when a question was directly aimed toward him. 

And then there was Pietro. He hadn't even bothered getting a lunch, just sort of sitting there, looking shaky, spazzed out. His hands were shoved into his pockets, legs kicking back and forth at an almost unhumanly possible rate. There was no real emotion on the boy's tight, drawn features. Blue paintchips, flat and dull, stared out from his skin. He definetly looked sick. 

Lance stood, tossing his tray in the trash and grabbing onto Pietro's arm. The lightness of the arm, the thin and bony appendage with no muscle, no anything, shocked him. "We need to talk." 

The white-haired boy pulled back, "There's nothing to talk about." And he ran off, leaving rush of air behind him. The older boy frowne, looking at the place where his friend had stood only moments earlier. Of all the nutjobs in the world, he picked Pietro Maximoff to have weird yearnings for.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He sunk the ball into the basket once, twice, three times with ease. This was easy, distracting, almost fun. If he could only get body to give up the cravings for more, he'd be on top of his game. That would be good and dandy, perfect. He could even go on being a normal member of the Brotherhood, stop lying and hiding from them anymore. In time...Maybe even come out to them...or maybe not. 

The rest of the school day had been fun. Great. Nothing he enjoyed more than being on constant surveillance for Lance. He didn't want the conversation that he knew was coming. Why was he so thin? Why was he sickly looking? Why why why? That wasn't the only thing he was avoiding though. 

Todd knew. 

The night before, he must have seen something. He had to of. That morning, at the table, he'd looked at Pietro and told him point blank that he needed to pull his sleeves down. His arms were disgusting. Coming from Toad, that was bad... Not that he was lying. They were really, really terrible. Sickening to look at, even for him. 

"Hey...What are you doing here, man? I thought you gave this up." Pietro turned, staring into the face of his former friend. There wasn't any animosity in Daniels' face, just concern. That was beginning to disgust the boy. Yes, he looked like hell, but why was every one looking at him like he was made of glass. 

But a smile was forced onto his features, "Nah... Just the varsity scene. Doesn't quite seem so important now to me. You, of course, are the coach's little lap-dog, I'm sure. As always." 

Evan rolled his eyes, grabbing the ball on a rebound, "Whatever man..." He sunk the ball easily. 

There was a moment, "There some reason you came and decided to talk to me, Daniels?" Bue eyes glared at his friend, bouncing the ball a little. He waited for the younger boy to come and take it before breezing past him, utilizing a play that had been ground into him for the past two months, launching the ball into the hoop quickly and efficiently. "Or do you like me wiping the floor with your sorry ass?" 

The boy stopped, "Where'd you learn that move?" 

"What move?" 

"The thing...With the arms and the hips..." Evan tried demonstrating, looking like an utter fool in the process. 

Pietro snorted, shrugging, "Picked it up at the center, where I work." 

The younger boy looked at him, deadpanned, "You work at a community center? Which one?" 

He shifted a little on his feet, "The Jewish Community Center. Downtown." 

Realization slowly found Evan's dark eyes before he nodded, "The one up the street from the Fairy Palace." 

"What 'Fairy Palace'?" A pit began to form in his stomach, not liking the all too familiar turn this conversation was taking. A pit of dread and a flare of anger for Evan talking the way he did. What did he know about anything? 

Daniels' grinned, "You know. Gay and Lesbian Community Center. Don't tell me that you haven't seen that place. It's a true work of fruit right there. Doesn't it bother you to work so close to them?" 

He ground his teeth together, "Well, aren't you the picture of an X-man..." 

"What do you mean?" The younger boy just stood there, blinking at his counterpart. Of course. Why would he know what the boy was talking about? 

"I thought you X-men were all accepting. The people at that center are people none the less, and if you really want my opinion, Evan, I think you're afraid of them." 

That caught him, his eyes flashing back and forth between digust and horror, "What do you mean, man? There's nothing to be afraid of. They're all harmless as harmless comes." 

Pietro smirked, "But I'm right. You're afraid of them. That's a very human instinct you have. Hate what you fear...Much the way the rest of the world looks at us. You want to know why you're afraid of them?" 

"I already told you, Maximoff, I'm not afraid of them." 

The smirk grew, "No. That's not true. You're worried that you could turn out like one of them. That you are one of them." 

"Pietro, get out of here. You don't know what you're talking about." 

The white haired boy grabbed his bag and ball, looking off into the sunset for a moment, then turned to his old friend, stepping very close. "Yeah. I do." He brushed his lips against Evan's, winked, and then took off like a bat out of hell.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
She appeared on the doorstep without meaning, without a phone call, standing there with a nervous expression on her pale face. She pulled on the thick leather gloves, biting her lip, "Lance....ah need to talk ta ya...It's important." 

The boy shook his head, "Not if it's about Pietro. I don't want to hear any more about Pietro and my problem. I have enough problems with the shit in my own head, let alone you babbling on about what you think you saw and what you think it means." His brown-black eyes closed a little, frustrated with this discussion, this topic. 

"Ah..." She sighed, shaking her head a little. "Ah know ya don't want mah help. Ah think ya can handle that part of things on yer own. Ah've been in that dark, lonely head of yers... Ah know what's going on here, with us." 

"You're breaking up with me?" He blinked. That was sudden...Not that it mattered. They'd still go shopping on Saturday. And they'd still fight over stupid things. They'd be friends again...and maybe he could stop feeling so guilty about his eyes trying to trick him every time he caught a glimpse of her white bangs, drifting into a hepped up fantasy that it wasn't the traitor girl next to him...It was the smart alec mutant with cockroad bangs and one hell of a cute ass. Then she would talk, and the fantasy ended. Maybe he could even tell Pietro...No. Not tell Pietro. Just get over Pietro. 

To his surprise, and dismay, she shook her head, "Ah want you, Lance Alvers , ta be the one ta call it quits. And ah won't accept anything better until ya'll have gotten that ass of yours back on track and after Pietro's...Ah also wanted to know if ya wouldn't mind takin' me to Borders Saturday..." 

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe, "That sounds...great." He was fucked. How could he get rid of Rogue by chasing after Pietro and nailing his ass? Lance frowned again, shaking his head back and forth. "Rogue, how am I supposed to get rid of you?" 

"Ya'll ain't nevah gonna get rid a little ol'me..." She drawled in the thickest accent possible, flicking a bang away from his eyes. A darkness settled over her face, "If ya want to make it into his life, ya better move fast..." 

He blinked, a suddent panic striking him,"He doesn't..." 

"He does, he does..." She smiled a little before shaking her head, clearing it, "It ain't about that...Just talk to him, tell him how ya feel. You need to get to him soon, Lance..." 

The boy watched her for a long moment, then drew his eyes closed to take this all in. His girlfriend, or psuedo-girlfriend depending on how you looked at it, was pushing him to go to another relationship. Not only anothet relationship, but with another guy... He suspected that Rogue wasn't really doing this for the sake of their friendship. She didn't care when Lance made his move with Pietro...Something had to be wrong with the other boy, something that Rogue couldn't tell him. 

When he opened his eyes,she was gone, the polished van across the street disappeared. Lance had figured as much. Rogue hated memories of any kind and shape; she hated sharing them more. Whatever was wrong with Pietro, it had to be life threatening. Was he really sick? He remembered the dark shadows and sunken cheeks of the younger boy, the pits forming around the once snapping blue eyes. Vaguely, he remembered how heavy Pietro had been to carry up to his room after Asteriod M. He'd been awake, barely, by then, making little snide comments about Evan. He'd been lighter than he expected. Much lighter... 

Compared to now, that Pietro was a fat slob. The normally tight clothes hung off of his frame like drapes. They had the same feel as well, that there was a secrete there waitingt to be uncovered. He'd slowed down, something that was deemed impossible by Magneto. He couldn't just slow down. Speed and Pietro were two parts to the same hole... To cut one out, you just had... 

Pietro. The kid behind the fast, sarcastic mouth and lightening feet. The kid that Lance had brought out in their times alone together, playing video games or some other pointless activity. The kid that's eyes were dark in hidden pain for an instant before Speed came back online...The kid that should have been there now that he wasn't moving quite up to par...But now, all he got was the husk. The moving doll that had begun to look nothing like Pietro. Nothing at all... 

He shuddered a little, hanging his head as some one opened the screen door, "Lance..." 

The older boy looked up, "Yeah, Todd? What is it?" He sounded so tired and drained at that moment, his voice caught in that almost languid and dreamy tone. 

Todd ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, "It's nothin', 'yo...Nothin'..."   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The nothing had a price that niether boy really cared to think about...A grim reality that was being faced quickly as the blonde man wound his hand through stark white locks, mumbling something incoherently, forcing the boy's head further down, not seeming to notice as the youth gagged on the length just a moment before setting back to work, his mind only on the money he would get for this. It was the only thing he could let himself think on...Anythig else, and he might just let himself choke to death.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
I wasn't planning on ending it here, but any continuation of the story from here just doesn't seem to work. So I bid you adieu, and, well, R/R. 


	5. Just Trying to Help

*laughs* Okay, some confusion on my part. I wasn't _ending_ the story there. I was finishing off the chapter. I made one my bad little screwing up word error things and gave off the wrong impression.*grin* I know how this is ending. That's planned. Yup. Very, very planned. And I only want to write it more now that I have Quicksilver #1 & 2. *hugs comics* And I bought Ultimate X-men...*swoon* WoW. If Kurt looked like that in the series....^________________^ That and X-treme X-men 3. *frown* Grrrr on them. Betsy shouldn't die. Anyway, now that I'm done ranting about my comics, this will end when I say *end*, but not until then... Okies? (Yeah, like I could leave Pietro on a drug addiction. I'm a sucker for the kid.)

Part Five  
Legals: Same   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Pietro shuddered a little as he forced the door open, gasping for breath. His entire body hurt. Part of him just wanted to fall over in the middle of the hallway, just die in the hall. Let the others worry about him in the morning. He'd be past all of this. Everything would be nice and simple again. No more fucking agony.

But he had what he needed, a nice roll of bills for Lance, to stop the questions of why he was out so late, and twenty beautiful little vials in his bookbag, calling out to him already. Just a few more minutes. Only a few more. He was almost to the safety of his room. He could do everything there... Just had to remember to lock his door. 

Sure enough, Lance was there. Sitting on the couch, watching an infomercial about the burnless grill or something like that. It didn't matter. The television clicked off the moment he looked in the room. Lance sat up, "Sit down." 

He didn't bother arguing, just did as he was told, arms crossed over his chest in an almost indignant fashion as he waited for the other boy to begin. But Lance just watched him with steady dark eyes, waiting for something. Pietro fidegted a little in the chair, suddenly anxious. He hated when talks began like this. "What do you want?" 

His friend sighed, "I want you to tell me what's wrong." 

That was it? What's wrong? *_Well, let's see here...I am a herion addict at the ripe old age of sixteen. I also enjoy men, not woman. I don't find them in the least bit sexy. And, as of tonight, I am an under-aged prostitute. Twenty-five bucks for a blow job!_* "Nothing's wrong. It's cool." 

The dark eyes flashed a little, angry, "You're lying." 

"No, I'm not. I'm just tired. I've been working at the Center too much this week." He pulled the wad of bills out from his pocket, ignoring the disgusted feel he had when this kind of money touched his hands. He didn't want to think about how much he'd made that night. He just wanted to go upstairs. "Here." 

The older boy watched him put the cash on the table, "Rogue said there's something wrong with you, that you're in some kind of trouble." 

"I'm perfectly, absolutely, one-hundred-fucking-percent fine, Alvers." Pietro glared, suddenly very pissed at Rogue. Sure, she was Lance's girlfriend, his perfectly goth and female girlfriend, and sure she'd seen inside his head after Asteroid M and all that bullshit. She still had no right to go and tell Lance anything about him. This was his life to ruin, damnit. 

"Pietro...She's worried about you." There was a beat, Lance shifting in his seat on the couch, "We're all worried about you." 

"There's nothing to be worried about." He forced himself to close his eyes. One more look at Lance with that...expression, that concern on his face, and the whole story would just tumble out. He'd worked too long and too hard and given up too much to let that happen. 

There was another long moment of silence before Alvers stood, "I guess there isn't, is there? Go to bed, Pietro. I'll see you in the morning." 

The white-haired mutant nodded, running up the stairs as fast as he could and slammed his bedroom door, grabbing the bag of vials out from the back-pack. He jabbed the needle, then out, and then into his skin, calming as the familiar constricting of tissue and vien hit him, comforting him as he shook, putting the supplies away. 

Pietro rested his head against the pillow, still shaking. He would not cry. He would not cry...But memories of the night, the entire horrible night overwhelemed him. He only had the dignity to put the blanket over his head before silent tears leaked down over his face and onto the pillow.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He leaned against her locker, watching the crowds pass. Rogue had been right; he had to hand it to her. There was something wrong. Pietro never in his entire time working for the center brought home more than thirty bucks. Last night, he'd given Lance nearly a hundred. 

"I'm telling you! We can't fight them if they're like that! That's _sick_!" Evan was carrying on, making motions to Kurt and Rogue about something. Both seemed more than a little disgusted with their friend. 

"Vhat I can say is disgusting is dat you seemed to think that ve should treat them different because--" 

"He **KISSED** me!" The hallway went silent, every eye on Evan. Lance snorted a little. Real smooth. That's just the type of thing to go shouting in the middle of a highschool. 

Rogue saw him, using it as an excuse to get the hell away from Evan, "Hey." 

"Hey." 

She spun the knob on her locker, "How is he?" 

"Rogue, you have to tell me what's going on with him...Last night...It wasn't Pietro when he came in that door. He looked..." The way to describe the other boy escaped him. All he could clearly remember were his hollow eyes and the defeated, almost dead look to his face. 

She stopped, looking at him, "Ah...Lance, he has a problem." 

"I'm not blind. I can see that. What is it? Is he anorexic or something? He's stopped eating. Yesterday, I made him eat. You know what he did?" 

Rogue bobbed her head, "He threw it up before you left." 

"He...How did you know?" He watched her for a moment. She closed her locker, then leaned against it, hugging her books to her chest. He could hear Kurt breathing behind him, watching him as if Lance was actually going to hurt Rogue. 

"Aren't you guys going to get to class?" Summers. Wonderful. He ground his teeth, turning away from his "girlfriend" and facing his geeky counterpart. 

He frowned at him, "I have better things to do than sit in there and listen to that wonderful psychobabble, thanks." 

"Rogue, Kurt, you mind..." Summers waved his hand to the two. Rogue looked at Lance for a moment, and in that moment he hated Scott more than ever. She'd been so close to just _saying_ it. What was bothering Pietro. What was killing him. But no, Summers here had to come and fuck things over. Just like always. 

"What do you want? Tell me the joys of going to class or maybe the importance of learning. Which one will it be?" 

The shades stared on unchanged, but Lance could almost sense the boy's growing uneasiness as he fought for the right words, "Leave Pietro alone...He's going through something that you wouldn't be able to help him with." That threw him. Why did all the X-freaks know about Pietro's "problems". They didn't come from Rogue. He knew her well enough that the memories she absorbed stayed in her mind, unless they'd been hand picked from her mind. 

"You don't know what you're talking about." Lance shoved him a little, trying to get past. 

Scott shoved him back, away from Rogue, away from the truth, "Yeah, I do. If he wanted you to know the truth, don't you think he'd let you know?" 

Shove. "Knock it off, Summers. He's got a problem. He needs help." 

Scott's fist connected with Lance's stomach, stopping him for a moment, just a moment, "His 'problem' can't be helped. It's just the way he is." 

The ground shook only slightly before he launched himself at Summers, fist flying to Scott's jaw. Which was responded to by a kick to the shin, and then an elbow into the stomach, and so forth. The red sunglasses shattered, a force beam singeing Lance's shoulder before he closed his eyes. It was a rotten, nasty thing to do, to take advantage of the fact that Summers could only blindly fight back, but he just didn't care, letting his frustrations out on Scott's body as the other boy only swung back blindly, rarely inflicting any damage. 

Some one grabbed his arms, wrenching him away from Scott as another person pulled Summers back. He blinked, trying to calm himself, breath escaping in slow, even breaths before he pushed away from the person who held him, Fred, glaring at Scott and Jean, trying to keep the sneer from his face. "If he dies because of your bullshit, Summers, I'll make sure that you're the one who pays. Got it?" 

Scott didn't say anything, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. The other boy tossed him one last glare before stomping away, ignoring the tortured expression on Todd's face.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The house was quiet when he woke up, raising his head from the pillow. It was later than he'd expected, though he had the strangest dream of Lance coming in and shaking him to get up. Time to go to school. Looking at the clock again, he decided that it couldn't have been a dream. 1:06 and already his day was in hell. 

Calendar check. Wednesday. Which meant a lovely little jaunt to the Center for some one on one counselling with that...lady. Great. First he had to get past Lance and Todd and Fred. _Then_ he had to show up, or face the dreaded phone call. And he was pretty sure showing up high wasn't exactly accepted by the shrink lady. 

He frowned, rolling his eyes as he forced himself into the bathroom. His hair was sticking up all over the place, free from the confines that his speed usually placed it in. He ran a hand through it, deciding quickly that it was a lost cause unless he planned on running to the center, something that was very likely at this point. 

Showering and dressing took him five minutes, a new all time low. There wasn't anything he could do now, especially after filling his blood with a new vile of heroin. Moving any faster than Kitty Pryde did on eight expresso beans made him feel ill. His legs throbbed, sight turned red, and he would collaspe, on the ground. He'd tried it, last night after his final "client". That had been a bad experience that he didn't plan on recreating. 

This was something that dug the knife in deeper, twisting as it pushed into his soul. If his powers didn't work, then he really couldn't call himself a mutant. And if he wasn't a mutant, then he couldn't be in the Brotherhood. And if he couldn't be in the Brotherhood... Where could he go? Back to the foster homes? He couldn't...His blood wasn't clean. The bruises on his arms told the social workers all about his activities... 

He could afford a place on his own...But only if he kept up...No. That wasn't what the money was for. As long as Magneto and Mystique weren't there, his powers weren't needed. And the money he made... It could go to other things. He hated himself for this. Wanted to die to end it...But that jar on top of the fridge was the emergency cash. 

There was an emergency coming. The boy grabbed his jacket as he walked down the stairs, shaking a little as he shoved his arms into it. He was going to be early as hell for his meeting with that lady, or at least, he was pretty sure that he was. How long could walking five miles really take? 

For once, a challenge stood in front of him that he was not inclined to try and face.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He groaned a little as he helped himself out of the car. A birthday party had gone violent while he was being host. Twenty-five little four year olds, screaming at him for more pizza. Demanding tokens and cake and prizes. Then there had been the birthday girl, her arms stuff with barbie dolls. She wanted carrot cake. Chuck E Cheese didn't serve carrot cake. She got pissed. The rest of the kids got pissed. And they attacked with the most deadly weapon of all, Barbie herself. 

Sure, she was made of cheap platic, but her hands hurt. They bit into human flesh quickly as demonic children laughed, finding the situation ever so humoress. On the plus side, his boss let him leave at eight with his ticket still running until ten, and he'd gotten an extra fifty bucks out of the parents, who were both just oh-so-sorry. 

Lance pushed open the door to a nearly silent house. He could hear Freddy laughing from the living room, the TV murmuring something into the night. Todd's light was on in his room; Pietro's was dark. Sighing, he leapt up the stairs two at a time. Hopefully, the white haired mutant would be alive and willing to talk, though Lance couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to sleep at eight. 

He reached for the door knob when her saw Todd's shadowed, "He's not in there." 

"What?" He turned, trying not to seem angry. They let him _leave_? Were they both complete jackasses not to see that Pietro on his own wasn't smart. Not at all. 

"Called from the center. He'll be home around eleven..." The younger boy walked forward, putting his clammy hand over Lance's and using both to twist the knob open. "I have to show you something." 

"What do you have to show me?" His head began to pound, not all that different from a power headache. Somehow, though, it kept him rooted to the floor as Todd flipped Pietro's light switch, illuminating everything. The once perfectly ordered room was trashed. Pietro's carefully folded wardrobe was strewn about on the floor, his bed an uncovered mattress. Sheets were tucked neatly into a corner. 

"You want to help Pietro, right?" 

He nodded, uprooting his feet as Todd grabbed a pillow off of Pietro's floor, opening the covering to the stuffing, There was a moment, Lance watching the movements of the younger boys hand, the sound as he grabbed something, a bag that he threw down carelessly onto the bed. Lance didn't say anything as he stared at the syringe, the little vials of liquid. The empty vials of liquid. 

He placed one vile in in his hand, staring at the smoothness of it, the almost simple beauty. His fist closed up around the vial, glass cuttig into his palm as it was crushed, "Get Freddy. We're going to have a little talk with Pietro."   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
^_^ Any ideas from here? I know how I want this to end, but I don't have anywhere to go other to the end, and I can't just go "talk with pietro, and then **ending omitted**....so, any ideas? R/R


	6. Can't Run Away

My muse deserted me. I'm flying blind now. I know this will suck, but *sigh* I have to get to where I need to be. I'm thinking maybe two more parts left to go. Yes. Two more. Thanks to everyone who replied. Yins are the ones who kept me goin'! ^_^ Love ya all!

Part Six  
Legals: Same   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He ran his hand threw his hair for a moment, head pounding. His pocket was full of money. His jacket pocket held more drugs. It was getting late...Almost ten. Some girls came out of the center, not paying much attention to him, chattering on about some sick little joke of theirs. His eyes burned again with tears. 

Pietro rubbed them away roughly with the sleeve of his shirt, nose wrinkling a little when he smelled it. It smelled like alocohol, and the alley. It smelled as disgusting as he felt...and it was dirty besides. Why didn't the other guys tell him his clothes were nasty? He snorted a little, trying to imagine Todd and Fred as fashion police. 

"You want to come inside?" One of the counsellors was behind him, voice gentle. "It's getting cold." 

He shook his head, resting his head against the stone building, "I'm fine...My friends will be here soon." 

"Sure..." There was a beat before the man went back inside. Pietro sighed, closing his eyes. This place was supposed to be helpful. And they were. Anytime he wanted to be alone in his thoughts and self-pity, they were in his face. When he needed someone there, if he didn't wsee some one he was going to poke three needles into his veins when he only needed two, where were they? 

Gone. Just like Lance. Just like Todd. Just like Fred. Just like his own fucking father. 

"Ah, the beauty of growing up." A light drizzle began to fall. He laughed a little, closing his eyes. It didn't matter anymore. He heard the crackle of thunder, the rain picking up. Still didn't matter. Sleep overtook him quickly.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"So...when we find Pietro, what are we going to say to him?" Fred asked for the upteenth time. Lance ground his teeth together. Some how the combined front tactic didn't seem like the smartest idea anymore, though it would definetly be interested to watch Pietro attempt to weasel his way out of the questions with Freddy looming over him. 

He glared at the road in front of them. Of all the people in the world to be on drugs, it had to be Pietro. It couldn't have been him or Todd or even one of the X-freaks. They would have made sense. They weren't the ones that looked at the meals that most of the Brotherhood shovelled into their mouths and made a disgusting comment about the preservatives, where they came from, as they sat on the counter, content with the apple and the salad. They weren't the ones who turned their noses up at the idea of smoking or drinking. 

The warning signs had been there. They had been there all along. Lance had just been too stupid, too assure that Pietro wouldn't do something that stupid. Increased speed meant increased metabolism which meant Pietro needed to eat as much as Fred did, of course more spread out over one day and of things heathlier in nature. He took crackers and fruit to school with him every day. The fruit that they usually had to replace ever three days was still sitting in the basket like it had for the last three weeks. The crackers were attracting ants. 

Maximoff had been sleeping more and more. When Lance asked him why he was out late, his answers were vague, distracted. He wore longer sleeves than usual, always tugging them down over his lower arm. When he ate, he threw up. He'd been slow...almost human. And Lance had been too wrapped in his own little warped problems to see that anything was truly wrong. 

He frowned, stopping in front of the Jewish Community Center, running a hand through his hair slowly, "You two wait here...I'm going to go see if Pietro's here or not." 

The other boys nodded as he stepped out into the rain. Only a few lights were on in the building, a few silhoutte's moving through the windows. He sighed, racing up the stairs and trying to open the front door. Locked. He knocked as loudly as he could four times before a forty something woman opened the door, her face beginning to line with age. A wisp of grey hair fell into her face as she watched him, waiting. 

"I'm looking for Pietro Maximoff...Is he here?" 

She narrowed her eyes a little, shaking her head, "I don't know who you're talking about." 

"Pietro Maximoff. White hair, blue eyes. Really skinny. He said he worked here..." Something was beginning to click on in the back of his mind. Another lie. That explained why he was never done at a certain time, never left a phone number. Always called from a payphone. 

The woman shook her head, "I am in charge of this facility, and I assure you that there has never been a Pietro Maximoff on our payroll. If I see a young man that fits that discription, I'll let you know." The door slammed in his face. Sure she'd let him know...Real quick and easy when she didn't know who he was or his phone number or anything. He rolled his eyes, going back to Todd and Fred. 

"He not there?" 

Lance shook his head, "Get out of the car. I need you two to help me look for him." 

Fred blinked, "I'm not--" 

"Yes, you are." He glared at the larger mutant, eyes very narrow. "We have to find Pietro. He's probably...Hopefully some where in the area. Todd, you head that way. I'll go down here...And Fred...You check the alleys and stuff around here. We'll meet back in a half an hour." 

"What if we don't find him?" Todd asked, running a hand through his dusky blond hair. The rain was already beginning to take it's affect. The webbing between his fingers was slowly growing more pronounced and the mop of hair was growing darker. 

"Then we...I don't know." Lance frowned, "We'll do something. Just go, all right?"   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
_"Where are you going, Pietro?"_ The little girl smiled, holding out her hand, _"I've been waiting for you."_

He shivered a little, trying to escape the warmth inside of him, the ever present and growing fire just beneath his skin. The little girl was painted to his eyelids, her smiling face, lips unmoving as she talked to him. _"It's lonely here....I miss you. Come back."_

Eyes tried to open as the smile changed, the girl beginning to scream, skin melting from bone. Fire consumed her, and began to take him with it, lapping at his face with glowing tongue's. _You must come now, Pietro. No time to waste._

He stepped closer, feeling nothing as the tendrils wrapped around his body, pulling him closer to the heart of the blaze.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Thirty minutes on the dot, he was back, looking at the very wet and very empty handed Freddy. The entire search has been a waste. But what where they going to do now? Call the police? _Um, yes, officer, my friend's missing. We think he's out there on drugs...Speak to my gaurdian....Oh, that's the funny part. We don't have one. She took off for the great beyond in a metallic, oversized golf-ball._ He sighed, pushing his bangs, thick with water, back onto his head. 

In the lamplight, Todd was almost visible as he hopped down the street. Nothing. Nothing...He was gone. Horror stories of what could happen to a boy on the street floated back to him from the foster home, back when he'd been a place that cared, showered him with affection and the occasional scare-the-piss-out-of-you-for-your-own-good story. He shuddered absently, pulling his watch from his pocket. Almost ten...Pietro had said.... 

That's when he saw the look on Fred's face. The sickened flash in his eyes as he stepped back a little. He turned. Todd was half-carrying, half dragging Pietro with him. He took in a shuddering breath, doing his best not to be alarmed. It wasn't that big of a deal. Pietro was thin. He always had been. Todd wasn't the strongest guy in the world, not with his arms, but he should be able to lift him. Right? Right...but a scene from months past betrayed his logic. 

_"Move your ass, 'yo. I'm trying to see the TV." Todd kicked Pietro lightly in the shoulder. _

The white-haired boy glared, "Make me." Todd frowned, kicking a little harder. 

"Move." 

"No." 

"Move." 

"NO." 

Each time, Todd tried to kick him. Each time, the other boy dodged effortlessly. Finally the youngest member of the Brotherhood stood, grabbing both of the pale arms, and pulled. Pietro didn't move an inch, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He pulled again. Nothing. 

A bark of laughter passed Pietro's lips as he stood up, "If it means that much to you." And he promptly stole Todd's spot on the couch, bringing on another argument. 

Then it had been a funny sort of annoying...now it was scary. That much weight had been lost between then and now. Gingerly, he took the boy off of Todd, morbidly put at ease a little by the way his friend was gasping for air. Still, he was too light, too limp. Nothing more than a rag doll in his arms. His cheeks were horribly pale, and he was shivering in his sleep. 

Lance swallowed a little, giving Pietro over to Fred as he steadied himself, looking at Todd. "Where did you find him?" 

"On the steps at the Gay and Lesbian Center, couple of blocks that way." He looked at his friend, questions in his eyes before the truth settled down. That was where he was at night....That's why he never called from inside the center. That's why there was no address, no phone number, just a call to say "pick me up". 

He nodded a few times, trying again to sort this out, "Put him in the car, Freddie. Todd, you okay?" 

The younger boy steadied himself another moment, his face a sickened chalk white as they began to go back to the jeep, "Some guy told me where to find him." 

"He did?" 

"Yeah...." Todd rubbed his arms a little, shivering himself. "You know the money he brought home last night, all the money he brought home." 

He stopped, staring at his friend. The look on Todd's face was enough to tell him what the man had said. He'd been around drug addicts before. When the money ran out, they turned to the streets. Some picked pockets; some broke windows. Some sold the drugs they used for increased prices. 

And some.... Pietro's haunted face the night before when he tried to laugh off Lance's worries. The dead look in his eyes, soulless. How could he do that? 

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he felt Todd's hand on his arm, breaking him away from his train of thought, "Let's go, man, before this gets any worse." 

He snorted a little, "Now how exactly could it do that?"   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
His eyes opened slowly, everything hazy. He was on a couch. The rain was gone...He was swathed in blankets, most of his clothes gone. He forced himself to stay still, listening. He could hear Fred's slightly heavy breathing from across the room. So he was home... 

He raised his head a little, seeing Lance staring at him, eyes narrowed, "Good morning." 

Shit.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Agh. I don't particularly like this part. *sigh* Oh well. Yins all be the judge. R/R PLEASE!!


	7. Don't Turn Around

I have no real inspiration any more for this fic. Why? I don't know...But the fact that I'm reduced to using the title of the song transfixed in my head for the chapter title should give some clue. Blah. I used to like this chapter when I finished it...before ff.net went boom. I will finish it, then move onto a new fic. Hopefully. ^_~ Oh well. I blame the missing muse.

Part Seven  
Legals: Same   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Pietro drew back into the blankets, eyes wide when he looked at Lance. His thin arms pulled the blanket closer around himself, forming a protective layer. The other boy didn't say anything, looking over at Todd who was sitting in the corner, his arms drawn tight over his chest. 

He coughed a little, trying to smile at his friends, "Hey...Guess you found me last night, eh? I can explain about being on those stairs, you see--" 

A bag dropped down onto the coffee table in front of him, glass hitting psuedowood with a descive clink. He cringed a little, seeing Lance's hand go back to gripping the sides of his chair, "Want to tell us something?" His voice was half dead, cold, emotionless. He swallowed a little, blinking his bloodshot blue eyes, wishing that maybe they'd go away, this was a dream. 

Still there. Still glaring reality. His little game of keep-away with Lance was over. Blue eyes flicked over to Todd, asking of him. The younger boy's head drooped, and he nodded. He'd been the one to betray him. Fred looked at him with a sad, confused expression, that age old 'why didn't you come to us for help' look craved into his features. 

He coughed again, sitting up slowly, "I don't think I have to. You got the proof right there." 

Lance didn't say anything, just breathing. He looked like some mythical dragon about to strike, smoke emitting from his nostrils as he sized up the victim, waiting for it to show first weakness. His fingers clenched around the arms again, knuckles turning white. "Look at your arms. You like them looking like shit?" 

"I don't care about them." 

"Pietro..." 

"Leave me the hell alone, Lance." He dived under the blankets again, the warmth hiding the voices, hiding his friends. The warmth took him away from all of this. Warmth pulled his eyelids down and delivered him to sleep once more.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Fred, take the jeep. Here's fifty bucks. Don't come home for a couple of hours, okay?" Lance stared at the lump in front of him, the shaking lump of cloth. "Take Todd." 

"What about--" 

"Just do it, okay, Freddie? Pietro and I need to talk." He glanced at his friend, the larger boy's features taking on a sudden understanding, a look he'd not quite seen in all the years they'd spent together. He nodded, taking Todd out through the door quickly, efficiently, quietly. 

The house was silent now but for the slow breathing coming from Pietro's quilts. Lance just sat there, watching the clock on the VCR steasily blink 12:00 AM, his head pounding. Vaguely, he heard Mystique's clock, some old relic she'd found in a garage sale, chime three times...Then four. Then five. He blinked, looking away from the blinking lights, glancing down at the floor. The clothes Pietro had been wearing last night were still in the middle of the floor, the damp spot slowly drifting away. 

His dark eyes flickered a little. Carrying Pietro back into the house had been harder than getting him out of the rain. When his body was warm, it did weird things. The muscles in his legs twitched or something, and he kicked. According to Todd, whose head seemed to be Pietro's favorite target, he kicked pretty hard in his sleep. 

Aside from that, it had been scary. They argued about leaving him in his clothes. Fred didn't want to embarass him when he woke up....and he really didn't want to be the one to undress Pietro. Todd had the same feelings about taking off Pietro's clothes, but didn't want him to ger pnuemonia. Lance ended up being the one to strip the pale boy down to his boxers and shove him into the blankets, though he regretted it. 

The insides of Pietro's elbows were covered with bruises and open wounds, the skin discolored from too many little injections. His body was bruised a little, fresh bruises. His clients enjoyed roughing him up a little from the appearance of things. What wasn't covered in bruises was a strange looking blue white, darker blue viens criss-crossing through it. Without his clothes, he looked like one of the starving children you would see on those "Light of Life" commercials, begging for your money. Ten cents a day to keep a child alive... Only they were sad little photographs... This was Pietro 

The red light was blinking on the answering machine, tearing him away from the dismal picture being forced up into his face. One probabally to tell him he was fired. One from school, for his little tiff with Summers. There was probably one from Rogue. Two more unknown messages... 

He hit the button, scrolling through the first message. He was fired, not yet, just needed an explaination of why he wasn't there. The next was the secretary, saying that he had a meeting with the principal and guidance counsellor. His gaurdian was expected to come. Inwardly, he groaned. Not fun, not fun. 

Rogue's. "Ah know ya'll are gonna kill me for this, but ah told them. Everythin'. Ah know ah promised yah that ah wouldn't, Pietro, but yah need help. Ah just thought that... Ah'm really sorry, but ah had too. If Lance wouldn't listen, ah thought Scott would...." The message was at nine o'clock the night before, just after they left. 

He hit the button again, hand shaking a little, "Hey, Pietro, it's me... Evan. Look, I'm sorry about that shit I said to you before. It was low, man, real low. I didn't know you were having these problems. Look, meet me later tonight at the courts...around ten, okay? I have to talk to you." Funny how now that Pietro's secret was out, they all wanted to say they were sorry. It made Lance sick. Rogue...he could almost understand. She'd talked to Pietro from the sound of her message... If only she hadn't been so stupid. 

"This is General Electric calling for a Ms. Raven Dark--" He switched it off, making a mental note to pay that bill later. 

"That's the best call we've had all day, eh?" A gravelly voice whispered from the living room. 

He turned back, watching Pietro emerge from his cotton cocoon. He looked worse than last time, the dark crevices in his face becoming more and more prounced with each passing moment. His eyes flicked hungrily down to the bag on the table, fingers twitching just a little. Lance grabbed the bag away before the smaller boy could get the message across to his fingers. 

"Why the hell did you start this shit?" Lance looked at the bag in disgust, putting it down next to him. 

He sat up, crossing his arms over his naked chest, "I don't have to telll you. You're not my father." His chin jutted out, eyes flickering with a childish light. 

"Your father is dead, Pietro." Lance clenched his jaw. "Mystique told us what happened to your family before you got here. Lost them all in a fire. This isn't going to get them back." He crindged a little. He sounded like the school counsellor. Calm and patient and rationalizing. He'd be talking through sock puppets if he wasn't careful. 

The other boy cackled a little, grinning like a demented china doll, "No, my dad isn't dead. My dad's pretending that I don't exist. My dad hates me more than he hates any of us. Because I'm gay. And he can't have a fairy son prancing around while he takes over the world." He flashed a grin at Lance, "Yeah, that's why I was on _those_ stairs. That's the community center I work for." The grin faded a little, and he stared down at the table. 

Lance didn't say anything, shrugging that off. He'd been figuring as much since that confusing discussion he and Rogue in the car all those nights back. Nothing really surprised him anymore. "It's okay, Pietro. It doesn't matter." 

The boy laughed a little, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. "Whatever." 

They sat in silence for a long time, niether looking up. Pietro was getting agitated, his body crying out for the drugs next to his friend. Lance finally held the bag up, getting his attention. "You have to stop this." 

"Why? What difference does it make now?" His blue eyes darkened a little, fists clenching, "I'm not going to quit." 

"You don't understand." The house trembled a little as Lance dumped the vials still containing heroin into his gloved hand, "I won't let you take this shit anymore." He held the icy gaze for a moment before clenching his hand into a fist, letting the subtance leak down his arm to prove his point. 

Pietro was on his feet in a flash, "Whatthefuckdidyoudothatfor!?" 

His smile was cold as he shrugged, "I know what you did for it. And I don't want you doing that. It's not worth it." He walked over, supporting his friend's shoulder, trying to meet his eyes again, "Promise me you're done with that shit now." 

A moment passed, the white head bowed, "Why should I listen to you?" 

"Because I care about you." He smiled a little, raising the other boy's face to meet his own, conflicting emotions swirling in the blue depths before their lips brushed. 

Pietro pushed him away, jumping back, "Don't....justdon't." And he was gone, speed fully returned to his feet as he took to the stairs. Lance sat down hard on the couch, hearing Pietro's window shatter in his room. He threw a tremor out, but knew it was too late. He was gone.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The boy shoved his hat down over his head, shivering a little. It was late. He could go back, go talk to Lance. The kiss still burned his lips, taunting him. It was soft and sweet, a gentleness that he couldn't remember feeling for so long. But it was _Lance_... And that alone said it would never work out in his mind. 

He stuck his hand into the pocket of his jeans, feeling the syringe. Its presence calmed him. Lance had broken his usual one, the tiny little number that fit so well into your hand. This one was larger, a bit more to the point with the chamber that could hold 50 cc's of whatever you wanted to force into your viens. He never really used it...It was too large, too dangerous. 

His watch beeped, blue eyes flicking up to the courts. He was there, waiting for him in the dim light. A basketball was wedged under his arm, beckoning to Pietro to come and talk to him. He drew in a breath, steadying himself. One last hurdle to cross now. One last hurdle before this hell was over. He forced a smile, "Hey, Daniels, what's up?" 

The perkiness in his voice was ignored, "I want to apologize...About the things I said." His dark eyes never managed to quite meet Pietro's as he pressed on, "I didn't want to seem like a pansy, you know. You were part of my crowd, you know what it's like. I don't mean that you're some kind of freak because you're...." 

"Gay, Evan. You sang Deck the Halls like the rest of us in fifth grade. You can manage to say it now." The old sarcasm snuck into his voice as he watched the other boy squrim a little. 

Finally, they were staring straight into each other, no secrets between them. Not anymore. "Gay. Yeah, you're gay... Rogue said I said something when we were younger about that...I don't remember man, really. I'm sorry." 

A soft laugh tickled his throat, "You don't remember. What you said kept me up at night for three months. You were my friend, Daniels. You should have been there for me. That's what the counsoler said, I mean. She says that you said something pretty--" 

"You're seeing a counsoler? Aw, hell, Maximoff, I though things were cool. I didn't know you were have head problems too. Everything going to be okay?" He looked away, unable to take the pity in Evan's eyes. What did he know? He was just some selfish, selfserving ass...that used to mean the world to him. Evan wad the first person to think he was "cool". 

He shook his head, "Yeah, she says you scarred me or some shit like that. And you did. I couldn't tell anyone about it after you almost found out. Even my dad. I tried...I really did...She told you about the other problems, right?" His laughter was hollow as he reached into his pocket. Lance had taken all the vials, every last one, and destroyed them. It felt so good to see them go. 

Evan just stared as he brought the thing Lance forgot, the one syringe that Pietro hid between the window panes. The one syringe that could hold two vials if need be. "Yeah...you should stop that....what are you doing?" His voice was tiny, awed as the older boy pulled back on the stopper, pulling back until it was nearly falling out. 

He just stared at it for a moment, at the lines and numbers. They swarmed in front his eyes as need struck him again, his body begging for the drug Lance took away. His hard, hollow eyes met Evan's, locked on, "According to her, you scarred me for life. That's what she said...I think maybe I should return the favor, don't you?" 

"What do you mean?" 

His lips turned into a smirk, pulling his shirt sleeve back absently, relishing in the horror and disgust in his old friend's eyes. The smirk grew into a full fledged grin as the boy began to studder, pointing down at the bruised, thin flesh. The bony arm, skin stretched so tight that you could see almost every blue vein through his skin. 

"Quiz time, Daniels...." The needle slid into his arm effortlessly, no pain registering in his mind, "What happens when you empty a syringe in your blood when there's only air in it?" Before Evan could even answer, the stopper slid down, Pietro's eyes still staring straight into his as the answer came.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
^_^ This comes from reading Christopher Pike: Remember Me before I was ten. If you've never read those books, you should. They're not that bad at all. Oh, R/R please. ^_^ 


	8. Silence

This chapter is in first person. I don't know why. _REAL_ short...And it's probably whacked because...well...it's a weird POV to use. 

Coming to Terms  
Part Eight ~Fin~  
Legals: Same   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When we came home that night, Lance was gone, a note tacked to the door saying that he was at the hospital. That's when Todd freaked. Pietro had been hell mortalized when we left for pizza and about three hours of driving, trying to find the perfect house to egg. Stupid and juvenile stuff that never made sense to me. But it made Todd happy. And he needed to be happy. 

It took us an hour to get to the hospital. There had to be a million hospitals in Bayville that night. There were probably a few that we made a repeat trip too. Finally we found it, the hospital almost out of the city limits. There was a moment of silence in that car...A moment where we just stared. 

He got out first, nodding for me to park. Todd didn't go in without me, his eyes large. Between us, not a word had passed yet...but this hospital was so far gone from the others, so pushed back and off from our house as they got while still in Bayville. When we told the lady at the counter who we were there for, she looked at us, eyes wide in sympathy, "I'm so, so sorry." 

Todd ran, leaving me there. I saw Lance down the hallway, half the X-men behind him. I didn't recognize who was missing at the distance, not fully. I didn't care then, just watching our "fearless leader" walk down the hall. When his face came into focus, he was pale, almost grey-faced, eyes liquid. 

"He...." I nodded once. There was another beat of silence. "They called." That's why the X-men were here. Again, I just nodded, waiting for something. "Where's Todd?" 

From then on, it was a mess of apologies and pats on the back. Sympathy cards, flowers, checks to cover the expense. At one point, some curly haired girl came to the door, spoke with Lance, and they went into Pietro's room. I didn't listen in on that conversation. My job was watching Todd...not that he did anything. 

I think he blamed himself just as much as Lance did. I don't know. He wouldn't talk about it. He wouldn't go near the room, refused to listen to Lance reading the letters that hadn't been destroyed. It was sickening to watch him. Todd at school was normal. He ate and he got in trouble, but at home... 

Maybe we were all different. I don't remember Lance crying or commenting, just the line of anger on his jaw when he lifted the letter Pietro had half written to Magneto. And that letter gave us someone to blame. It was easy, simple, and guilt free. Not once did Pietro's father come to the door, write, call. Nothing was missing from the room. 

He didn't even come to the funeral. Even the string of foster parents that had taken Pietro in and promptly pushed him out came to the funeral, their heads bowed over silent prayers for his immortal soul. 

And I hate everyone of them. 

I just lowered my head as the final words were murmured, swallowing back a rush of emotion and stand. He wasn't supposed to die... 

For their sakes...I wish that it had been me. For all their sakes, I wish that cold body was mine. Pietro was funny and smart and...almost perfect. Gay didn't matter to anyone in the long run.... 

But now no one is laughing at his jokes. Instead of happiness and weird things, we have silence. Endless, mononous silence. The one thing Pietro hated above all else.... 

And this silence is all we have left of him.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Okay, NOTES! I wasn't planning on this ending, and I hate this ending. I had a really cool plan worked out with my friend Sammy, but he and his husband had a fight and then he called and said that he'd be in touch when he found a place to stay out in Cali as his parents are stupid asses....and that was the last time I talked to him. On Wednesday, he slit his wrists at the hotel he was staying at...so...yeah. This ending is assinine, but after Pietro, Freddy was Sammy's favorite character (and kinda mine too, but his 'voice' screws me over), and if it weren't for him this wouldn't be a story. Thanks for reading this much....Ja, ciao, cya.


End file.
